


coup de foudre

by thewrongharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Baker Harry, Fluff, French Harry, Love at First Sight, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Student Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 14:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3414479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewrongharry/pseuds/thewrongharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spending New Year's Eve with a stranger has never been appealing for Louis. Until this one, because the stranger might be cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coup de foudre

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this is my first attempt at writing something in English, it's kinda exciting.
> 
> This is based on a true story.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://thewrongharry.tumblr.com), come and say hi!

Louis hates his family. Well, he doesn't, not really. But, at this exact moment, he does. He drove from London to spend New Year's Eve with them, but his mom has apparently decided that she has somewhere else to go. Without his son. Which kind of family does that? Since when is it a socially acceptable behaviour to leave his children alone for New Year's Eve? Louis is scandalized. There's no other word. It's a scandal. He's close to call a charity for badly handled children. Even if he's 22. It doesn't matter. 

 

Being 22 is just a number, ok? It's not written on any rules that celebrating a new year when you're older than 16 has to be with your friends. Especially when your friends are a bunch of idiots who have to actually work on the 31th (seriously, Liam) or go to Sri Lanka with their girlfriend (Zayn, this loved up fucker). So, yes, he's alone and lonely and he needs his family more than ever (maybe even more than the time he called his mum because he put his kitchen on fire -cooking has never been his best aptitude.

 

As his mum said to him when he has turned up yesterday (a day before the D-day), he could have indeed stayed in London. He has more than two friends, Liam and Zayn are just his best of friends (even if he hates them right now too). And, the idea of commemorating the transition from 2014 to 2015 without them left him with a bitter sweet taste.

 

Louis hates feeling bitter. He's not vindictive, neither sad nor pessimistic. Louis is supposed to be a happy person, smiling and enjoying his life like there's no other New Year's to celebrate. As a kid, he was cheeky and cunning; as a teenager, he was mischievous and carefree. Growing into adulthood somehow changed him. Moving from the familiar and small Doncaster to the cosmopolitan and huge London left him rather preoccupied. He adores the city, he now can’t live without his walks in Hampstead Heath neither could he live deprived of the buzzing and busy atmosphere. But there are always bills to pay, essays to return and costumers to satisfy. More often than sometimes, his work at a coffee shop is a priority compared to university and it makes his stomach twist.

 

Being a student in London is so far from his initial dream, made of parties and sex. Thus, Louis is inevitably bitter and he finds it insufferable.

 

He could have indeed partied in London with some of his mates from college, but what was the point? He finds them boring, or maybe he’s just jealous because everyone but him seems to enjoy living in the big city. For Louis, it’s utterly depressing to be an exception, to be this mean drunk guy when others have just the time of their life. Becoming an adult changed Louis and he wanted a bit of his childhood back while returning to the North. But even his _mum_ moved on. And this, this exact point, is the worse.

 

*

 

When his mum knocks at his door a few hours later, Louis is tempted to pretend he’s asleep. However, and as seen previously, as much as he’d like to, he is not a kid anymore.

 

“Yeah, c’me in,” he mumbles, his face still in his pillow.

 

He hears the sound of an opening door and some steps coming in. He drops the book he is supposed to read and turns his eyes to face his mum. She has taken a sit at the end of his bed and she’s smiling at him fondly.

 

“I’ve found you somewhere to go on New’s Year Eve”, she starts in a soft ton, as if she doesn’t know how Louis is going to react. Since he doesn’t say a word, still looking at her blankly, she continues, “Anne’s son doesn’t have any plan, so she was thinking that you could -”

 

“Mum”, Louis cuts her off. “I’d rather spend the evening alone than with some kind of loser.”

 

Johanna seems offended by Louis’ harsh tone and he can’t really blame her. How hypocritical of him is it to describe someone as a loser when he is the same position as him? It’s just, he’s 22, alright? He shouldn’t be there; his mum shouldn’t try to find something for him to do on the last day of the year. It’s laughable, really. Pity is all his mum is giving him, actually. She pities his 22-years-old son because he’s home when he ought to be in London, drunk and happy.

 

“Sorry, mum. It was me being mean”, he says. “I just cannot believe this is happening.”

 

She pats his leg, squeezing when she sees he’s closing his eyes.

 

“I know, love. I know”, she reassures him. “And I also know that Harry is lovely. So give it a try, okay?”

 

“Alright. I’ll go”, concedes Louis in a sigh.

 

So he is really going to do that, then. He’s about to celebrate New Year’s Eve with a complete stranger. He might be interesting –and weird and depressing. Cheers.

 

*

 

It’s seven in the evening on the 31st and Louis is in front of his wardrobe slightly in situation of despair.

 

He has no clue of what to wear. He shouldn’t be so preoccupied because he doesn’t exactly give a damn about being presentable for this Harry kid. Or maybe he does. It’s not for Harry, though. Louis can be a bit insecure about his appearance. Meeting new people has always been quite a challenge for him. He wishes it could be easy. He wishes he could just put a tee shirt and a jean on and leave. He is not able to do that. He knows he is about to be judge by how he looks like and he freaks out. That’s something he has no control over. When it happens he just stays still in front of his mirror, enumerating all his flaws. And he feels bad. So bad.

 

Maybe he should stay in his bed, tonight. Maybe it is, by far, the best idea. The most considerate. He could eat tons of ice cream and he could watch Grease. That’d be fun.

 

But he promised to go.

 

He sighs and runs his fingers through his untamed hair. He finally opts for his favourite black skinny jeans, a loose white shirt and his usual jean jacket with fur. It’s probably too casual for a New Year’s Eve, but he feels comfortable in this outfit and that’s all that matter. He styles his caramel hair in a fringe and he’s ready.

 

Johanna and Dan are already gone with the twins when he leaves his room and the house. They hugged him and said they’ll call at midnight; Louis smiled and kissed his mum cheeks. Growing up is weird, that’s what he thought when he waved at them.

 

Harry’s house is not far away from his own, just ten minutes driving. It’s a classic English house, a bit smaller than his, with flowers near the door. He pulls out his car, takes a long breathe and he’s under the light of the entry porch. He only needs to knock once before the door is being open by what must be Harry.

 

Harry who is, let says it properly, fucking perfect physically. His chocolate hairs surround his face with silky curls emphasizing his forest green eyes. His big mouth is delimited with two dimples that Louis feels the urge to put his finger in. And he’s tall, and he has these long legs covered in a black skinny jean which seems paint on him. His torso is broad, his arms muscular and his shirt is far too open for the last day of December. He’s perfect. He’s like a model and Louis is astonished by his beauty.

 

“Hi, I’m Harry, you must be Louis”, exclaims the Apollon with a gravelly voice.

“Hello, yeah, that’s me name”, replies Louis with what he hopes a very laid-back tone. “Thanks for having me.”

“My pleasure! But come in, you must be freezing out there,” says Harry while keeping the door wide open and letting him in.

 

When he puts a step inside, Louis’ senses are assailed by one thousand and some wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. The scents of garlic and basil but also vanilla and caramel are brushing his nose, appealing his stomach.

 

“Sorry for the odours coming from the kitchen,” Harry is talking again, closing the door behind him and ordering Louis to follow him. “I’ve been cooking all day and it was too cold to open the window, so yeah.”

“No worries, it does actually smell rather nice”, admits Louis with a small smile.

“Does it? I hope you’ll like it”, says Harry with a small, crocked smile and Louis really wants to poke those dimples.

 

The kitchen is, indeed, full of dishes and as a cliché, flour is all over a part of the table. The oven is leaking a soft heat and a pleasant smell, embalming the room.

 

“Are you a cook or something?” asks Louis, full of curiosity.

“A baker, more precisely”, answers Harry, opening the oven to check whatever is inside with a knife. “I actually just came back from France, like two days ago. I’ve lived there for two years. Best place in the world to learn how to be a proper baker.”

“Wow, I’m impressed”, declares Louis, and truly, he is. Ad it’s not only because he has no idea how to make pasta. “Do you speak French too?”

“Yeah, I learned while I was there. In fact, I had to because none of the French will be kind enough to speak to you in English. Especially when it comes to baking,” laughs Harry –what a lovely sound, his laugh.

“Are French really that rude? I thought it was just a legend!”

“All legends have a part of truth, I guess. But, no, they’re not that rude. They just love their language, and French is a beautiful one, so.”

 

They carry on speaking while Harry finishes his cooking and Louis never thought he will enjoy himself so much. His host is not only handsome, he’s also a proper charmer and interesting and funny in a bizarre way sometimes, but Louis laughs all the time Harry cracks a stupid joke. They didn’t know each other an hour ago and now they’re exchanging stories and anecdotes about their life. Harry has such an easy way to just be and Louis feels comfortable, a state that usually takes him ages to go with strangers.

 

*

 

After what feels like ten minutes but in reality has been an hour, Harry is finally done with his cooking and Louis helps him with bringing everything on the dining table.

 

“You know we’re only two, right? Or are some people coming over that I’m not aware of?”, asks Louis.

 

There is definitively too much food for the two of them. He doesn’t even recognize some of the dishes, probably some French specialities. Harry blushes, his cheeks now coloured in the cutest shade of red.

 

“I know, it’s just…,” starts Harry suddenly shy and embarrassed. “It’s just I didn’t know what you’d liked so I have made a bit of everything. Sorry.”

“Hey, no need to apologize, Harold, I was just teasing”, smiles Louis. “So tell me everything there is to know about our lovely meal.”

 

Harry blushes again, and then, starts speaking about the food. His voice is still deep, but there is passion when he speaks about the subject. Louis can feel that Harry loves cooking, but more than that, he loves sharing with others what he has made. So Louis listens with attention every explanation and comment, catching how Harry’s voice changes when he uses French words. Some are funny, like ‘baba au rhum’ –he has never heard of it but he tries and it’s sweet and mellow.

 

The diner lasts for hours and according to Harry, that’s _vraiment très français_. They eventually come to the reason they were alone for the last day of the year, like it did matter now.

 

They move from the dining table to the sofa, still chatting softly with a glass of white French wine in their hands. Louis has a smile that brings crinkles in his eyes and Harry’s dimples are in full display.

 

They are in the middle of a conversation about football when they hear the first thunderclap. Louis jumps from the sofa, spilling wine everywhere.

 

“Oh shit! Sorry, sorry!” exclaims Louis, already looking for some tissues to absorb the liquid.

“No worries, Lou! Not your fault.”

“It’s yours actually.”

 

And Louis is not exactly kidding because he was really interested in how Harry mouthed his words to be aware of the outside. He hasn’t thought of kissing him, nope. He may have drunk too much wine, yes.

 

“Mine? I’m outraged,” says Harry, taking his far too huge hand to his far too open shirt.

“Yours, being your interesting self,” replies Louis, and ok, maybe he’s flirting now. But he is not the one to blame.

“Oh, am I?”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s not like all Paris hadn’t been charmed by your curls.”

“Shut up, you idiot. That’s because they haven’t melt under your electric blue look yet,” winks Harry.

 

And, oh, _oh._ That’s flirt too. And Harry’s eyes are full of what look like lust. That’s a bit overwhelming. It is useless to mention that the wine stains are now completely forgotten.

“But they’ve definitely witnessed those legs”, says Louis.

“What could they say without being able to see an ass like yours?”

 

Louis’ face has never been this red, and as much as he would like to blame the alcohol he really can’t.

 

“You look adorable when you’re blushing, Lou”, murmurs Harry, his soft voice melting between them.

 

He musts look like a crashed tomato now, how very lovely indeed.

 

“I’m really glad you came.”

 

Harry is moving closer, Louis can feel his breath and Louis doesn’t know what thinking properly is like, he’s losing his mind and himself into the proximity. He has no idea if he’s happy or scared, his heart is racing and that’s all he knows.

 

“And it’d really like to kiss you.”

 

Louis finally meets Harry’s emerald eyes and his heart stops. Or it must have because he cannot breathe properly nor think reasonably. But Harry looks beautiful and he’s leaning closer and Louis can see his plumped mouth he wants to kiss so badly, and,

 

The lights go off, the phone rings and a thunderclap breaks the air.

 

They both scream and jump; luckily their hands are not holding anything anymore. Unfortunately, though, the moment is now broken.

 

He can’t see Harry; he just has an idea of his silhouette standing in front of him. They don’t say a word for a minute, hoping that the electricity comes back. However, the lamps are still off and the rain is pouring hard again the window.

 

Louis doesn’t know what to do so he stay still, waiting for Harry to say or do something. The silence is a bit suffocating especially when he thinks about what could have happened earlier. His heart has not found his normal pace yet and he tries to calm his breathing.

 

“Hm, I should probably get some candles,” states Harry and his voice is a bit off, rough.

 

Louis nods even though Harry is not able to see it with the darkness.

 

As Harry starts moving to where the candles must be, the phone goes when a thunderclap makes all the house vibrates.

 

“Shit, that’s becoming to be scary,” admits Harry stopping all movements.

“Maybe I should cuddle you so you’re not too scared.”

 

And, shit, Louis wasn’t supposed to say that at loud.

 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

 

But Harry cuts him before he can apologize, “Would you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“I’d love to, Lou.”

 

Louis clears his throat, taking a step closer to the sofa they just left. Harry grabs a soft blanket and sits, taping next to him to Louis to come. So Louis does, and he lets Harry putting his arm around his waist, pushing him against his torso. He can feel the beats of his heart and he’s relieved when he hears that they’re as jerky as his.

 

“That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What’s weird?”, asks Harry, curiosity in his voice.

“Us, the situation, I don’t know,” starts Louis. “Like, I had no idea who you were and I came to celebrate New Year’s Eve with you because my mom practically forced me to. But, it just feels good, now. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I’m so happy to be here even though we don’t have any electricity and your phone his crazy.”

 

Harry laughs, and truth be told, that is now Louis favourite sound in the world.

 

“I guess, yeah, it’s bizarre,” admits Harry, “I was a bit apprehensive about the whole thing, to be honest. But somehow, I already like you, Lou. Maybe it’s a _coup de foudre_ , and it will be really appropriate.”

“Isn’t it the French for ‘love at first sight’?”, inquires Louis.

“Yeah, it is. But the exact translation would be lighting stroke, so that’s why it’s so relevant,” explains Harry.

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Harry nods, Louis can feel it behind his back. So he turns his face and takes a look at Harry, admiring his beauty in the darkness of the room. He leans and he finally lets his lips brushing Harry’s. Harry melts into the touch and his hands come to Louis neck, stroking his hair. Louis’ are on Harry’s muscular chest, keeping him in top of the beautiful man. Their first kiss is all shyness and modesty, Louis loving every minute of it. They’re still out of breathe when they stop like horny and in experimented teenagers. Louis would laugh if he wasn’t so enamoured by Harry red cheeks and glittering eyes.

 

“Kiss me harder”, whispers Harry.

 

So Louis does. He deepens the kiss. Harry’s hands are on his waist and happiness is exploding in his body, mind, everywhere. He feels safe and at home, tasting the wine and the delicate patisseries on Harry’s tong. He loses his fingers in Harry’s soft curls, making Harry groans. And he loves that, loves the impact he already has on Harry, he can turn him so easily and he has no idea why, he actually wonders how it happened because Harry is perfect and he’s not.

 

Eventually they break the kiss to catch up with their breathing, and at the exact same time, they hear cheers and people shouting ‘Happy New Year’ outside.

 

Louis kisses Harry again, softly, and just says:

 

“The legend says that the person you kiss at midnight is the one you’re going to spend the year with.”

 

Harry kisses him again.

                                                                             


End file.
